


Like a Feather in a Hurricane

by lonelywalker



Category: The Tick (TV 2017)
Genre: Anal Sex, Antennae, Chums who hug a lot and also now have sex, Established Relationship, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:34:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27546169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonelywalker/pseuds/lonelywalker
Summary: “Tick,” Arthur said. “Why is my mom sending you gay sex guides?”
Relationships: Arthur Everest/The Tick (The Tick)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 31





	Like a Feather in a Hurricane

It had been three weeks since Arthur had even thought about setting his alarm clock. 

This didn’t mean that he was getting any more sleep (if anything, late-night villain battles and the associated bruising probably meant the opposite). What it did mean was that, after years of being roused by sharply insistent beeps shaming him into action, he’d finally found a nicer way of waking up. A nice, big, blue way.

The bed was inarguably not big enough for the two of them. But it was the bed they had, and Tick liked to wrap up Arthur in his arms like a warm, well-intentioned straitjacket, which pretty much solved the space problem. The old Arthur would have flailed and protested, needing to toss and turn for at least thirty minutes before finding some magical position that would let him drift off. The current Arthur was just happy to have made it through a day of patrols and evil-thwarting. Who knew his mom had always been right about fresh air and exercise helping him get a good night’s sleep? Well, maybe the exercise part. The air they encountered at the docks, in sewers, and in abandoned warehouses wasn’t something anyone would term “fresh.”

Tick never slept half as long as Arthur did. Arthur wasn’t completely convinced that Tick really needed to sleep at all, although he was happy to snuggle up with Arthur. But no matter how well Arthur slept, Tick was always up before dawn, patrolling the neighborhood despite the fact Arthur couldn’t believe any criminals would be up that early. Didn’t you become a criminal precisely to _avoid_ having to get up in the morning? But Tick always seemed to find something to do, from rescuing lost pets to helping unload trucks. Giving directions was still a bit hit-or-miss, but he was trying.

Then, around 6:30, there was the reliable groaning of mattress springs as Tick got back into bed, manhandling Arthur back into his arms. It wasn’t the worst way to start the day, Arthur considered.

“Hey Tick,” he murmured. “What’s new?”

“Our headquarters has been marooned by a murky maelstrom.”

Which was possibly why Arthur was getting dripped on by wet antennae. “As long as we don’t float away.”

“I’ve got you anchored tight, chum.”

Arthur was dreamily wondering about the AEGIS Villain Doppler’s barometric readings when Tick’s words stirred him again: “I stopped a man pestering a young lady in an alley. I told her she could use one of Goat’s ponchos but she just gave me her number in case I wanted a good time. I said I was already having a good time!”

“You’re always having a good time, Tick.”

“I am when I’m with you, fella.” Tick’s breath tickled his hair a moment before lips were pressed to his jaw and powerful arms squeezed him just a little tighter.

In his wildest dreams (the few that hadn’t been hijacked by traumatic visions of the Terror), Arthur had never hoped for this. He had imagined boyfriends, sex, bed sharing. But they’d always been tainted by a general acceptance that they’d be relationships of convenience, self-hatred, and extreme brevity, that he could only ever be the bottom of the barrel option for the fifth-choice lover of anyone Arthur actually liked. 

But here he was, still pretty much the same physically as he always had been, still with a bank balance and apartment and dress sense that would impress absolutely no one, and he was waking up in the arms of a man whose absolute hotness probably depended on what you thought about antennae, but was nevertheless way out of Arthur’s league by any conceivable measure.

Destiny had a sense of humor, Arthur would give her that.

“Remember we promised my mom we’d help her out today.” 

“Absolutely!” Usually the more confident Tick sounded, the less he knew. But despite his complete mental blank on his past, his memory for everyday things seemed about as good as Arthur’s was. Not that Arthur would use his own brain as a metric for anything. 

Arthur experimentally shifted his hips back against Tick’s. “And maybe later we can have some alone time?”

“Aren’t we alone now?” 

It would be nice if he could interpret that as casual flirting and not genuine concern that a murder robot might be hanging out in the next room. 

“Yeah,” Arthur said, hooking an arm round so he could tug Tick’s mouth onto his. “We’re alone.”

He did his best not to think about AEGIS and various other Big Brother entities monitoring their every move. But if someone was watching and evaluating, Arthur was sure they would’ve been awarded very high marks in the last few weeks… At least compared to all those other inexperienced couples afflicted with complete retrograde amnesia and all-consuming anxiety.

There were a million other things in life that Arthur had always been told “came naturally” to other people, but caused him to sink like a stone while others swam merrily on. But everything he did with Tick seemed as normal as if they’d never not been partners who kissed and made love and shared a bed instead of just partners who hugged and lived together and never spent a moment apart if they could help it.

“I want you inside me tonight,” he said right next to Tick’s ear, pulling Tick on top of him, which in any other circumstances was a recipe for splintered bones and internal bleeding. “I think it’s time.”

Tick’s antennae perked up. “Tonight… or now?”

“Not now.” Admittedly he could see the potential for confusion, naked bodies pressed together. “We have patrol. And we have to get across town to my mom’s…”

“I’m sure Joan would understand,” Tick said. Which, for him, was coming about as close as possible to dereliction of duty.

“Well she’s not going to understand, because we’re not talking to her about this. Any of this.” Arthur cast out a hand to hopefully demarcate the exact boundaries of permitted topics. “Definitely nothing about… about toys or sex stores or any of that!”

Tick’s bright blue eyes turned a little sulky. “Those clerks were _very_ helpful, Arthur. We should promote their small business through good word of mouth!”

“No, no words. No mouths. No orifices of any kind.”

Tick mumbled something that might have included “gentrification” and “eroding social capital” and Arthur had to stop him from chatting to liberal arts students in Goat’s bodega, at least if they were going to keep one iota of their private lives private. But then Tick was kissing him again, and no one could be expected to retain coherent thoughts in that kind of situation.

After their first night together, Arthur had debated how to give him The Talk about things they might want to do together in a way that would involve as little confusion and horror as possible. Touching and exploring and making each other feel good only went so far before Arthur was hamstrung by social conventions and the fear of running into that instinctual “eww” reaction he’d had back when he was just about as innocent as Tick. 

So he’d done what any extremely online young man might do and curated some porn that he felt might just be suitable for Tick consumption: the variety that at least managed to include lots of affection alongside the enthusiastic fucking, with no hair-pulling or spanking or other things that would shock Tick and probably (if Tick ever attempted them) send Arthur straight to the ER. And Tick, after clarifying that no one was livecasting their own sexploits, had watched with the same kind of riveted attention he’d given Midnight’s memoir.

“You okay, Tick? You think you might want to try some of that?” Arthur had asked tentatively.

Tick hadn’t seemed baffled or disgusted or aroused so much as… Relieved? “Their bed is much bigger than ours, chum.”

“Yeah, well we can work it out. If you want. Do you… want?”

Tick’s big bulky blue fingers had intertwined with his own. “I always wanted, Arthur.” He frowned. “Do you figure those frisky fellas also fight fiends in all their foul forms?”

“Uh, maybe? They’re probably students or something.”

“Then the students have become the teachers.”

When it came to good students, none were better than Tick. This was one area that had zero prerequisites, required no attendance at previous seminars, and where the total absence of shame was a definite plus. Which was great for Arthur in bed and made him want to develop embarrassment-based invisibility powers in certain small businesses while Tick found out all about alarmingly garish dildos and edible lube from (yes, very helpful) store clerks.

Arthur tipped his head back against the pillow, letting Tick kiss him deeper, and hooked his legs around Tick’s hips. Even the light rub of Tick’s body over his was making his cock stir and fill, and giving rise to at least a dozen excuses for leaving his mom to wrestle with furniture by herself…

“Oh, Arthur!” Tick pushed himself up suddenly. “I forgot! I have mail!”

“You have… mail?”

The mattress rebounded with sudden relief as Tick left it.

Arthur was reaching for his glasses, trying to persuade his body to calm down, when Tick dumped the package on the bed. And sure enough, it really was addressed to THE TICK, even though Tick himself would’ve given out his address as “Arthur’s Apartment” without a second thought. 

There was no reassuringly official AEGIS stamp. Arthur poked at the box cautiously. “Did you order something online, Tick?” They’d both agreed that it was best Tick not ever use computers without Arthur being there, and Arthur couldn’t imagine Tick getting to grips with PayPal.

“Not on any dimension, chum.”

“Well, maybe take this into the bathroom and open it there? Just in case Overkill’s added us to some _Munitions Monthly_ subscription box.”

Arthur was just reflecting how, in retrospect, he’d probably rather live with an exploded bedroom than bathroom, when there was the sound of ripping and no ensuing boom. But there was an excited gasp: “Look, chum! Books!”

Books. That at least seemed more puzzling than alarming. 

Arthur pulled on shorts and ventured into the bathroom, where Tick was eagerly removing items from the box that did indeed seem like regular non-explosive literature. Albeit literature that featured various semi-nude forms and colorful titles involving “Pride” and “Gay” and “Sex”... “Did Dot send this?” Arthur asked, trying to hold up the ever-heavier stack Tick was building in his arms.

Tick made it to the bottom of the box. “Aha, a clue!” He wielded a slip of shiny paper. “It’s from Joan!”

“Tick,” Arthur said. “Why is my mom sending you gay sex guides?”

“Should I have asked Walter instead?”

“No! No. Tick, I mean... you can ask _me_.”

Tick’s antennae craned forward. “You said we had to make your paper last a long time.”

“Yeah, we do. But I convinced AEGIS to cover our rent, we’ve still got plenty of Flag Five coupons, and you pretty much live on coffee and croissants. I’m not saying we can splurge, but…” Arthur’s gaze drifted down to the stack. “I thought we’d kind of figured all this stuff out between us.” The lithe, chiseled body on the cover seemed like it came from a different species than from his own bare chest.

“Normally I follow Destiny’s guidelines. They’re easy to read for all ages and come with full-color illustrations. But I think this might be a little outside her normal operating parameters.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right, Tick.”

Tick took the pile from him. “You’re looking a little glum, chum.”

“I just thought that I’d answered all your questions.”

“Well, I was thinking about that, and it occurred to me that maybe there are more questions, questions I don’t even know about. So I asked Bronze Star and he said I should read a book. Then I asked at the library and they wanted me to fill in even more paperwork. So then I asked Joan-”

“Yeah, I get it.” Arthur scratched his head. “There’s a library around here? No, wait, so… You told my mom we’re having sex?”

Tick froze, like he had his hand stuck in the cookie jar. “I definitely did not say that,” he said after a moment.

“You just happen to want to know a lot about how to please men in bed.”

“Last week you did all that research on hubcaps. That doesn’t mean you’re a taxi.”

Arthur looked into his earnest blue eyes and sighed. “Okay, forget it. Make a pot of coffee. I’m just going to jump in the shower and then we can head out.”

Tick let him squeeze past, toward the shower, but lingered. “I’m sorry, Arthur. I thought… I already know how to be the best superhero. But I want to be the best partner for you too.”

“Oh, Tick, you are.” Arthur pushed back on his glasses. “It’s just… My whole life I’ve had to live in a glass case - not a real one, Tick - with Dot and my mom and everyone I knew all reporting on me to each other. I couldn’t jack off or miss a college class without someone making a note. I was just hoping that this could be… special.” 

Even as he said it, he realized how incongruous it was to complain to his nigh-invulnerable antennaed boyfriend about their relationship not being special enough. “I’m sorry too, Tick. I should tell you these things instead of expecting you to read my mind.”

“Oh, I think your mind’s way above my reading level, chum.”

***

Mid-morning patrol passed without much incident beyond getting slightly damp in the drizzle. Arthur mostly sheltered under an awning, eating his unreasonably hot bodega oatmeal while Tick lifted up a van and conducted a cheerfully clueless conversation with its tire-changing owner about the fortunes of the local high school baseball team. But as they strolled along the sidewalk, Arthur let his hand slip into Tick’s. Maybe it wasn’t exactly a public declaration when it was mainly observed by dumpster cats, but it felt like it.

“So you know mom’s address?”

“I know where it is.”

“Yeah, but if you get lost you don’t have a phone and I don’t want to have to fly over the whole city looking for you.” Arthur’s goggles slid into position. “Even if you’re pretty hard to miss.”

“Don’t worry your little wings, chum. I’ll be right behind you.”

He could have called an Uber, but Tick was right about their ongoing cash flow issues, and it seemed silly to look for alternative transport when he had wings and Tick could jump a hundred feet in one bound. Plus he hadn’t been doing much flying recently and it was easy to get out of practice and wake up feeling like his core had been put through an industrial shredder.

Arthur never felt more super than when he was soaring up there, feeling the remnants of morning mist on his face, and catching occasional glimpses of a starkly blue figure as he made his zig-zag way across the metropolis, calling out greetings to scaffolders and apologizing to pigeons.

He touched down outside Joan and Walter’s suburban home with only slightly wonky grace, folded up his wings, and looked around at Tick’s complete absence. To be fair, the buildings here were more widely spaced and less Tick-friendly, but he couldn’t help wishing for the hundredth time that Tick would just carry a phone, or radio, or flares.

And then a big blue figure tumbled out of the sky and landed surprisingly lightly next to him, holding out a mug as if in offering.

“What’s this?”

“I had to stop a mugging!” Tick said, beaming.

Arthur turned the mug over in his hands. It had a gaudy I HEART THE CITY motif. “A… mug mugging?”

“Another small business in need! Never fear, chum, I set those wayward youths straight. And received this in thanks!”

“Uh, okay. Good work, Tick!”

When he knocked on the door, Tick’s hand was a warm weight on his shoulder, and Arthur half wanted to turn and haul on his suit and kiss him, but then there was the sound of footsteps and the door was opening.

“There are my boys!” Joan’s arms went around Arthur immediately. “Arthur, I feel I never even speak to you these days, you’re so busy.”

“Maybe because you’re always on the phone with Tick?” Arthur folded back his hood and slid on his glasses. “We got your package by the way.”

“Oh, wonderful. I didn’t want you to have to carry it all the way home.”

“Tick can bench-press a jeep. He can probably carry a box.”

But Joan was ignoring him anyway. “Okay Tick, let me see it.”

Arthur’s mind immediately went to Tick’s cock. And then to how quickly he could apply bleach to his brain, so he would never ever think about his mom being interested in Tick’s cock again. Meanwhile Tick had peeled back his cowl with a shyness that was very unlike him.

“I knew it,” Joan said. “You’re even more handsome now, it’s infuriating. But Arthur, you didn’t take him to a barber?”

Arthur felt like he was being berated for letting his gerbil pee on the floor. “It’s his hair, Mom. And I think barbers don’t have much experience with antennae.”

The antennae were bending back as Joan reached up to fuss with Tick’s hair. “Well, it’s going to be in his eyes before long. Come on, I’ll find Walter’s clippers. Can’t have you trying to save the city while half blind.”

“Um,” Arthur said as Joan took Tick by the arm and steered him into the living room.

“Oh, honey. Take a look at my computer, would you? Walter downloaded a weird toolbar again and it’s messed up all my settings.”

Arthur slunk off into the relative darkness of the den, where the walls were lined with books and a computer screensaver was bouncing multicolored light off the ceiling. He could hear Tick’s voice and Joan’s laughter and felt inescapably jealous that anyone else was basking in Tick’s company. This was probably what shrinks called codependency - just about the only thing he’d never been diagnosed with as a teen, given that there had been no one around he could possibly be codependent on. He deleted the offending toolbar, cleaned out a couple of suspicious applications, and idly searched for “codependency.” 

Relying on someone else for a sense of identity and approval. Well, he couldn’t argue that was a fair description of Tick. And, given the fist-sized feeling of longing and emptiness in the very center of his being, it wasn’t totally alien to his own circumstances. 

He cleared the history and took care to amble as carelessly as possible into the living room, where Tick was sitting patiently while Joan dusted off stray hairs from his face and shoulders. “Now, isn’t that better?”

“What do you think, Arthur?” Tick asked. “My coiffure is nothing to be coughed at!”

“Yeah, it looks great, Tick.”

Tick’s antennae flexed, pleased. 

Joan gave him the once-over. “You can take these clippers. I’ll pick up some new ones for Walter. Arthur, I’ll send you some YouTube videos. Couldn’t be simpler.”

Arthur had heard that about a few too many apartment maintenance issues. “I don’t know about that…”

“Don’t worry about the antennae. He can keep them still if he focuses. Right, Tick?”

The antennae nodded in agreement. “I think about cheese.”

“Now, Tick, let me show you what we need to do…”

Arthur hung back while Joan briskly described how to carry the old couch out to the garden without hitting or shattering anything, and Tick nodded as if he was an old hand at the home removal industry. Then, once the couch was safely outside, Joan unfolded an old paper map of the City, which might have belonged to Arthur’s dad, and showed Tick exactly where to take the couch - to some family Joan had found on one of her neighborhood forums. 

“Maybe I should’ve gone with him,” Arthur said after Tick had got a grip of the couch and bounded off. There was a risk Tick would forget what he was doing, and a greater risk that Arthur being left alone with his mom would just enable awkward family chats.

Joan raised her eyebrows. “Arthur, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times: you worry too much.”

“If I had total amnesia you’d worry about me.”

“You’re flying around the city fighting villains and I don’t worry about you. You know why? Because you’re with a big nigh-invulnerable guy who adores you. And who’s smarter than you give him credit for, by the way.”

Arthur pursed his lips. “I know he’s smart. He’s got a better vocabulary than most English professors. But he gets confused when I’m not around.”

“Or maybe he gets confused when he’s worrying about you. I can relate. I can’t tell you how many hours I spent staring blankly at paperwork I could normally complete with my eyes closed, all because you were having a tough time, or Dot was in one of her moods...”

“When he’s worrying about me?” That certainly explained some of Tick’s past behavior when Arthur had been abducted by the Terror and abruptly taken out to breakfast by Superian. Tick might get bored on other occasions, but he could cope in ways that didn’t involve shouting at the sky.

Joan sat down in her armchair, crossing her legs and considering him like so many therapists had done before. “Arthur, you don’t know how many times I imagined what kind of boyfriend you’d bring home… Someone who wasn’t good enough for you, of course. You were so vulnerable and longing for so much love, and the world is full of people who like to take advantage of that. And then you go out and find the sweetest, most wholesome boy in the city.”

“I wouldn’t say _find_ , but… You really don’t see anything weird about me being with Tick? He’s not exactly a boy. He’s super strong, he has antennae, he’s got no idea who he is or where he comes from…”

“Arthur, maybe when you get a little older you’ll realize that knowing your name and where you come from really don’t add up to very much. I thought I knew those things about Walter, turns out I didn’t… But I still knew him.” Joan leaned forward a little. “But why does it sound like you’re looking for excuses not to be with the Tick? Did you two have a fight?”

“What? No, you can’t have a fight with Tick. It’s like kicking a puppy.” Arthur scratched his nose, his ears echoing with long-ago words from shrinks berating him for avoidance mechanisms. “Honestly, Mom, we’ve never been closer. But the closer we get, the more it… Can I ask you something crazy?”

Joan raised her eyebrows. “I don’t know how high the bar for crazy is anymore, but sure, try me.”

“Ever since I found out that Dot’s a Category… You know how rare that is, right? Especially a Category that isn’t just like a regular Olympic athlete on steroids.”

“Arthur, you made me buy you all the trading cards. I know how rare it is.”

“Okay, so, obviously not all siblings of Categories have powers. Siblings can be complete opposites. But… Doesn’t it seem really, really, hugely unlikely that you have two kids, and one of them has superpowers, and the _other_ one has a huge blue superhero pop into his life? A huge blue superhero who has no memory of who he is, but just wants to be with me 24/7?”

“You mean you think you _do_ have superpowers?”

Arthur sighed. This kind of conversation had never ended well when he was a teenager. “I don’t know, Mom. AEGIS tested me, if I can rely on what Hobbes said. But I’ve spent my life wishing so hard to be a superhero, or to be able to defeat the Terror, or just feel safe and loved… And Tick basically appeared out of thin air. Strong and good and handsome and… And also someone who really needed me. He couldn’t be more perfect if I’d designed him myself.”

In all those other conversations over the years, Joan had mostly responded with a look of thinly-masked concern, like she was trying to decide whether to call the psychiatrist or go straight to the hospital. Now, though, it was more like she was repressing a smile.

“Arthur… Do you remember when I met Walter?”

“Uh, not really.”

“No, you had more than enough to deal with. But after your dad passed, trying to raise you and Dot… It was a struggle. A rewarding struggle, but I still felt like I was failing you both, failing your dad. I was drowning in my own life. Of course I dreamed sometimes of a hero sweeping in to save me. But I was getting older, with two kids who needed me… And then Walter showed up.”

Arthur could see where this was going. “I don’t think Walter’s much like the Tick.”

“Arthur, if he’d been wearing a blue suit with antennae he couldn’t have bowled me over harder. So handsome, smart and funny, and he actually seemed like he was interested in talking to me. _Me._ I don’t think I’d had a proper conversation with a single adult who wasn’t a doctor or teacher in a decade. I thought he was selling something. Or maybe that I was dreaming.”

“Okay, but you can’t tell me Walter’s perfect.”

“Oh no, of course not. If I had the power to create the perfect man, I’d never have imagined Walter. But that’s the point, Arthur. You would never have created Tick. Don’t try to tell me he doesn’t drive you crazy as much as Walter makes me nuts. You’d have imagined someone who could take on the Terror alone. Not an amnesiac who throws you out of windows and into danger. You’d have imagined Superian 2.0 and I’d have imagined some other version of your dad, and we’d all be miserable.”

Arthur picked at his fingers. It made sense… in the typically irritating way that parents tended to make sense. “Guess we’re back to Destiny, then. No superpowers. Just a superhero origin story.” Which was somehow both a relief and a disappointment.

“Complete with a snazzy wingsuit and an adoring partner.”

“Who’s totally lost and pretending he’s not.” Arthur glanced at the time. 

“He’ll be fine. Honey, Tick learning things and becoming more independent doesn’t mean he’s going to need you less. He’s not a baby or a dog, and neither are you.”

“Put us together and we’re almost a functioning adult.”

Joan smiled. “Almost a functioning adult is wonderful. It’s better than most people.”

There was a WHUMP outside of air rapidly parting to make way for a large Tick-shaped body and then some polite knocking.

“Arthur!” Tick welcomed the opened door by holding out a foil pie dish on his upturned hand. “I successfully bartered Joan’s couch for this rare tree potato delicacy.”

“Tree potato…” Arthur took the pie and narrowed his eyes. “Tick, are you fucking with me?”

Tick’s gaze was all innocence. “Joan! The McTavish family conveys their undying gratitude. And pie. Did you know they have a dog that doesn’t speak English? Friendly fellow though.”

“Does he speak French?” Arthur muttered, ignored, while cautiously giving the pie a sniff. 

The rain came down again in dismal sheets while they ate pie and Tick listened in rapt wonder while Joan explained the differences between pastry types and why a croissant wasn’t a pie. It was really no surprise at all that they’d taken to having lengthy phone calls on the regular - Joan might have always had boundless patience for teaching Arthur and Dot, but Arthur and Dot had routinely slid off, rolling their eyes and muttering something about Googling it. With Tick she finally had a student who paid attention like there might be a pop quiz.

(After Overkill and Dot’s experiences with human furniture and the Terror’s cola investments, Arthur really couldn’t rule out the possibility of running into some baking-related crime in the near future. Nanobutterbots? He frowned at his fork.)

“I’m not sure how much my wings are going to like this rain,” Arthur said during a break in the conversation, trying to hint toward home before Walter showed up and there were no more breaks in the conversation for the next decade. “I guess we’ll call an Uber.”

“Oh, good luck with that. The service around here is shocking. Just get Tick to take you.”

Arthur tapped insistently at his phone. “Remember how I somehow threw up _twice_ my body weight on that bungee thing when I was nine? Don’t need that experience again.”

“But you’re a superhero now, sweetheart. And Tick won’t drop you.”

“Not worried about being dropped! Not worried about heights. Worried about intense gravitational forces and an inner ear that isn’t designed for sudden hundred-foot changes in altitude. And also about how much pie I’ve just eaten.”

The app on his phone frustratingly persisted in claiming that not only were no drivers available, but cars in general were possibly a figment of his imagination and didn’t he want to order a pizza instead? A weighty hand was laid on his shoulder. “We can give it a try, chum. Like a feather in a hurricane, mightily-”

“No hurricanes,” Arthur interjected. “Just a nice, smooth, _safe_ ride home. Right, Tick?”

Tick seemed slightly put-out by Arthur’s failure to embrace all-out disaster. “Smooth and safe, roger that.”

It wasn’t cool or heroic to cling to Tick like some terrified toddler who’d inadvertently found himself on a rollercoaster designed by a madman. But Arthur supposed that if he absolutely _had_ to cover the distance back to his apartment in hundred-foot bounds, rain sploshing against his suit, this was the best way to do it, with the arm of the strongest man on the planet holding him snugly, his cheek pressed to the warmth of Tick’s chest, pushing away everything that wasn’t his own gulped breaths and Tick’s heartbeat.

A sudden clang reverberated through him and they stopped. Arthur opened one cautious eye. The fire escape. 

“Thank you for flying with us today. Please ensure you take all your internal organs with you when exiting the vehicle.”

Suddenly all-too-aware of what his kidneys might be doing, Arthur looked down and tentatively placed his feet on what passed for terra firma. The wind was picking up, whipping rain against them both and the windows of his living room. Tick moved to form a windbreaker while Arthur unlatched the window with slippery hands.

“Maybe we need to convince AEGIS to lend us a car,” Arthur said. “Or a moped.” It was nice to imagine a world where Tyrannosaurus Rathbone was happy enough to lend out precious equipment and Arthur was confident enough to actually drive in the City. Both were the stuff of fantasy.

Speaking of the stuff of fantasy, there was soon a large blue man standing in his living room, antennae wiggling to shake off raindrops. Arthur popped back his hood, found his remarkably resilient glasses, and wondered if this was what happened to people who dated rock stars and supermodels: after an initial state of wonder, the international icon became just some regular person who could never truly figure out how to work the toaster.

He’d never really had that wonder about Tick, though. Not at first. Not when he thought that at least one of them was crazy and Tick was at best a hallucination and at worst a gleefully homicidal stalker. But now…

“Hey Tick,” he said, his voice a little squeakier than he would’ve liked, “I think we can skip afternoon patrol, right? No one’s doing anything nefarious in this weather.”

Tick opened his mouth and his antennae moved as if to suggest that poor citizens and multiple felines might need a friendly helping hand. But what he said was: “Coffee?”

“Uh, sure. You make coffee. I’m going to… I’m just going to have a shower. Get, um, clean. Really clean. And then maybe we can…” He felt like he was flushing crimson. “We can have alone time. If… If you want. If you’re not… busy. Okay, yeah, shower.”

The shower didn’t help him to cool down, but it did give him the space to breathe and collect himself before mentally broaching what came next: an unknown frontier that they’d been working up to for weeks and that he’d personally been contemplating for years. He liked boys, that had been clear for a very long time. He liked cocks, sure, if they were attached to the right boy. The part where a cock went in his ass was a little more debatable. It just seemed like so much effort, so much potential discomfort and grossness, just to put Tab A in Tab B when he had a perfectly good mouth and hands. 

Which had all made perfect sense up until he and Tick became roommates and partners, and something deep in Arthur’s belly started longing for a closeness and fullness, with a desperate need that had only increased since Arthur had determined that, yes, Tick did have a penis and, yes, he really enjoyed having sex with Arthur (which Arthur still felt had to be some kind of mental misfire, but wasn’t going to object to now). 

Tick’s fingers were nice. Dildos made him feel like part of some bizarre medical experiment, even if they gave him more confidence that Tick’s actual cock wouldn’t rip him apart. And he still just _wanted_ in a way he hadn’t when he was a hormonal teenager, because math and computer games had seemed safer to fixate on than fragile fleshy bodies. But now that he had the safest, nigh-invulnerable body in his bed, Arthur had more than once woken up mid-mumbled-apology for what he guessed was basically humping Tick’s hip. Tick didn’t mind. You had to go a long way to find something Tick _did_ mind. 

The shower was a long one. He took even longer drying himself off and trying to steel his nerves for (a) doing this, and (b) telling Tick he wanted to do this. Especially a Tick who had probably forgotten all about it and was itching to go rescue baby ducks from puddles.

Arthur poked his head out of the bathroom. Tick was not sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee. Tick was lying on the bed, naked, absorbed in one of those gay rainbow books as though it was some page-turning airport thriller. 

“Arthur,” Tick said. “Am I gay?”

Arthur should have long ago learned that preparation meant nothing around the Tick. “Uh, I don’t know, Tick. You could probably say you’re in a gay relationship, since we’re… we’re both men. Male.” Tick did generally refer to himself as a man. Whether he was human was another matter.

“Ah, like male _boxes_.”

“Not- Um, boxes?”

“It’s something DB was asking me.”

That made sense, in as much as anything made sense. “Right. Well DB identifies as gay, I think. A gay male boat.”

“But he’s not attracted to other male boats. Or boxes.”

“Um.” Arthur coughed, trying to persuade his voice to stop squeaking. “I think maybe DB just hasn’t met the right boat yet. Plenty of boats in the… sea. So what was on your mind, Tick?”

Tick flicked a finger at the page of his book. “This tome has very little information on superheroes, chum. So I was wondering… We aren’t very similar physically, but we _are_ both heroes of the super variety, and maybe that makes us the same.”

“I wouldn’t get caught up on all that, Tick. Lots of couples look very different, and they do completely different things…” Arthur struggled to succinctly express the entire history of human sexuality and its socio-political implications while the towel threatened to slip from his waist. “I think the books will help explain? But what really matters is how you feel, and who you’re attracted to.”

Tick’s blue, blue gaze swept over him. “So the books _were_ a good idea?”

“Yeah, Tick. It’s always a good idea to find out more, and I definitely don’t know everything. So maybe we can find out together?”

Tick beamed, then his antennae craned forward. “Does that mean alone time is library time?”

“Uh, no. I… I think most major academic institutions would agree that, um, practical, hands-on work is needed for a fuller understanding of the theory.”

“Right on!” The book was clapped shut and Arthur, fueled by what could only be the helium-like qualities of absolute relief, found himself straddling Tick’s hips, his palms flat against Tick’s chest as they kissed.

In the beginning, he’d interpreted Tick’s tentativeness as uncertainty - after all, Tick was never at all shy about full-force hugs - but now they were way past that initial stage of blushing exploration, and Tick was still achingly gentle with him. But why shouldn’t they take their time? They were adults in their own apartment, in their own not-really-big-enough bed, with literally nothing marked on Arthur’s flimsy free music festival calendar. Sure, eventually a giant robot would appear at the window, or an interdimensional blob would stop by to borrow some sugar, but until then… Until then, Arthur was more than fine having Tick’s hands stroke and explore every part of his body, like any of it was actually worth exploring. And he was more than fine doing the same to Tick, tracing the lines and curves of muscle that he always expected to be marble-cold, but flared with warmth. 

It was just so incredible that someone, anyone, let Arthur touch them like this. _Wanted_ Arthur to touch them. And the fact that it was the Tick… Something that was half a sob caught in his throat and he leaned in to rest his head against Tick’s shoulder, kissing his neck.

Had he had imaginary friends as a kid? He’d had the Flag Five, action figures and posters and trading cards, and he’d played infinite games where he was Straight Shooter or Uncle Samson, or even Midnight, defying physics and defeating evil. But after all of that, after what had happened, he’d never imagined someone coming to save him. There was no one. Heroes were frauds, cops thought he was crazy…

Arthur breathed out, hot and soft against Tick’s skin. Its pale, bluish hue and inhuman lack of freckles and hairs made it seem somehow unfinished compared to Arthur’s own body, like some creator had been disturbed before adding a final layer or coat of paint. Then again, that same absentminded creator had probably forgotten to add a few pounds of muscle tone to Arthur’s body, not to mention a few inches in height and a more resilient digestive tract.

“Tick…” He didn’t have anything to say, he just wanted to say it, to anchor himself in some kind of reality that said this wasn’t his imagination, that Tick wasn’t a dream that could dissipate in the wind or vanish in the blink of an eye. 

Tick’s hands had reached Arthur’s hips, enclosing him in warmth and drawing him closer, so that the jutting hardness of Tick’s cock pressed up against Arthur’s stomach and an insistent heat flushed along Arthur’s thighs.

“Arthur,” Tick said, his tone lacking the uncertainty and confusion that often clouded his words. “How about lying down on your tum, chum?”

“Uh.” Arthur lifted his head, preparing to overthink everything about this request, but that gave him a better view of Tick’s cock in all its flushed fullness, and really any way Tick wanted him was just fine with Arthur, so long as Tick wanted him at all. 

The wind must have shifted, because raindrops started battering the window in earnest while Arthur extricated himself from Tick’s body and peeled back the blankets, trying to nestle down into the mattress to keep himself warm, the hot ache of his cock expanding like an aura of heat around his body.

This felt kind of like college, burying himself in his own bed, rocking his hips against nothing and squeezing his eyes tight to convince himself that someone was there with him. Except the bed groaned and squeaked with Tick’s every movement, and then Tick’s impossibly big hand was curving over his ass. “Here, put this under you.” 

Arthur frowned at the pillow, but his cock very much did not want to waste time by asking why. “You’re going to use a lot of lube, right?” he asked, wriggling into position. “Like we did before?”

Tick made a distracted kind of noise that was usually a huge red flag, but both of his hands were on Arthur’s ass now, gently spreading Arthur’s legs, and Arthur was too caught between the twin tensions of fear and desire to attempt a clarification. And then-

Arthur gasped, a keening whine coming from his throat as the instinctive need to pull away smashed into an even more powerful need for _more_. Tick was… He moaned, pressing his face into the mattress, every attempt by his mind to process this being derailed by sensations that sent electricity shooting up his spine and curling around the base of his cock, simultaneously making him harder than ever while relaxing him completely.

“Oh God,” Arthur mumbled with feeling, sheet bunched up in his hands. “Jesus, Tick.”

Tick’s tongue felt so unbelievably good, doing things Arthur could never have built up the confidence to ask Tick to do, tracing achingly lightly over sensitive skin and pushing inside, wet and gentle and too much in a way that made Arthur want to sob and laugh deliriously in the same moment.

He made himself breathe and steady his thoughts. “Is that… do you like that, Tick?”

Tick’s hot breath led him to spread his legs even further and arch up, seeking more contact. “You taste soapy.”

Laughter won out. “Yeah, I bet I do. Why did you… Was this in your book?”

He could imagine Tick’s sheepish look without having to see it. “It said it could help you to relax. Being relaxed is very important, chum.”

Arthur took stock of his body. Relaxation wasn’t exactly his strong point, but this didn’t feel exactly like relaxation. More like an out-of-body experience, with endorphins and whatever hormones accounted for raging horniness blocking off any attempts by his brain to dip into anxiety. “Very important for what, Tick?”

He wanted so badly to be filled, to feel more than whole, but he also wanted Tick to get there at his own speed.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Arthur.”

Arthur rolled over onto his back, making a grab to take one of Tick’s big mitts between his hands. “You’re not going to hurt me. That’s why we’ve been taking it slow, remember? And hey, look at how good you’re making me feel already.”

Tick obediently looked at Arthur’s stiff, leaking cock, stroking it with his free hand, his antennae craning forward. “The book said-”

“I need you inside me, Tick.” Arthur sounded desperate, even to himself. He took a breath, squeezing Tick’s hand. “Just… slowly and with a lot of lube, and it’ll feel really good, I promise.”

Tick swallowed, looking at him, his antennae curling in a way Arthur couldn’t easily read. “I’ll take care of you, Arthur.”

Arthur smiled. “Yeah, Tick. I know you will.”

He’d thought of this as its own distinct thing, as completely new, uncharted territory. But what it was, in fact, was making love just as they’d been making love for weeks, with Tick’s big, warm body wrapped around him, and Tick’s tongue in his mouth (soapy was right), and his fingers in Tick’s hair. Every time they were like this, Arthur firmly reminded himself not to grab onto Tick’s antennae, and every time, Tick’s cock would rub against his and Arthur would feel the whole-body twitch and Tick’s little yelp in his mouth before he realized what he was doing.

This time Arthur stroked his fingertips along one antenna, barely touching him, and at the same time tilting his hips up. The different sections of the antennae were called flagellomeres, he knew, which was about as far as he’d gotten in his research, since there was no way he was using that word in a sexy rasp, and anyway Tick resembled absolutely zero actual insects. He slid his finger along the broad head of one of those sections and felt Tick’s hips jerk in response.

Tick made a little sound of longing and lifted his head without pulling free from Arthur’s fingers. Then he reached down, guiding himself to rub over Arthur’s slicked-up hole. Arthur didn’t have the math to express just how much better that felt than toys or fingers, but he could wrap his legs high around Tick’s hips and look right into his blue eyes and say, “Yes.”

It wasn’t at all like he’d expected.

Tick was big, so big in comparison to Arthur’s slight, pretty-much-virginal body that he’d anticipated anything from having to try this in multiple stages over several nights, to Tick’s cock just straight-up splitting open his pelvis and rearranging his organs. Sure, that never happened in porn, but no one in porn was either a nigh-invulnerable being with the strength of twenty men, or a… whatever Arthur was.

But Tick just kissed him and pressed inward, and Arthur closed his eyes and breathed and kept breathing, and Tick kept filling him up, not with pain at all but with heat and pressure that blossomed into a throbbing pleasure and seemed to lick at his cock from the inside.

“Oh Tick.” Arthur clutched at him with fingers that would leave bruises on anyone else, and then experimentally clutched at him inside, too, which made Tick breathe heavier.

When Tick stopped moving, Arthur opened his eyes and lifted his head to look down between them, where their bodies were locked together. Tick was inside him, as deep as anyone ever could be, and as solidly real as Arthur himself, if not more so. 

“Tick?” Arthur said in a whisper, very aware that this was the worst time and position for any sort of conversation. “How would you feel if I imagined you? I mean, if I had one actual superpower and it was to make my dream superhero and boyfriend real? And also, you know, the same person?”

Tick blinked. It almost seemed as though Arthur could feel his brain working, the neurons firing and blood pumping, through the places they were connected.

“I am the Tick,” Tick said. “I’m a superhero.”

For a moment, Arthur’s heart sank. “Yeah, Tick, I know all-”

“And one night I met everything that was missing in my life. Arthur’s big brain and Arthur’s clever mouth and voice box, and Arthur’s loving heart and gentle hands and all this other stuff that’s fun to touch and hug.” Tick’s antennae moved under Arthur’s grasp. “How would you feel if I imagined you, Arthur?”

“I mean, you’d probably have some explaining to do to my mom…” But joy was flooding his body. “Just promise me neither of us is going to fade away like a dream, okay?”

“We’re real, Arthur. Who’s not real?”

Arthur was reasonably convinced that nothing could feel better than that moment, basking in Tick’s love and relief from all his worries. But then Tick started moving, a nice, easy rocking motion, and Arthur’s eyes just about rolled back in his head.

“Fuck,” he said with feeling, letting Tick’s antenna go because clinging onto Tick for dear life was all he could think about. That and the way Tick was moving his hips and touching things inside of Arthur that maybe had always been there or never existed before this very moment. It was the first of a whole lot of curse words, half because his brain was being shut down by exorbitant amounts of pleasure, and half because the knowledge of Tick’s disapproval was a spark of excitement he couldn’t resist.

“You feel so good, Arthur.” Tick’s voice was steady, if hushed. “Does this feel good?”

“God, Tick, nothing feels this good.” 

Tick smiled, pleased and proud, and Arthur, heart swelling with love for his partner, cupped his face and kissed him.

“You could… harder, if you want.” 

Whether or not Tick had read anything about prostates, his body seemed to know something, filling Arthur with an intense pleasure that seemed to build in waves as Tick thrust inside him with force that went slightly beyond careful. Arthur couldn’t resist touching himself anymore, reaching down between them to grasp his poor, over-sensitized and neglected cock.

Tick helpfully sat up to give him space, and that was a sight that made his cock stiffen in his hand: Tick’s inhumanly flawless sculpted body, and Tick’s cock pumping inside him. Arthur’s breath stuttered. 

“I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as you,” Tick said, with maybe even more sincerity than usual.

Arthur was too deep in a haze of pleasure and need to tell him to cut it out. Besides, he was a legit card-carrying _superhero_ being fucked by the strongest, sweetest person on the entire planet. Which probably counted for more in the attractiveness stakes than chiseled obliques or a strong jaw.

He strained to grab Tick’s wrist and guide his hand to his cock. “I want you to do it.”

Some guys might have felt emasculated, seeing their proud erection pretty much disappear inside Tick’s fist. Arthur just breathed out, an intense relief flowing through his body. He’d never wanted anything more or anything better than this, to be loved and wanted and - for now, at least - completely possessed by someone he loved and wanted just as much.

The relief lasted only as long as it took Tick to work out the rhythm between his hand on Arthur’s cock and his own cock in Arthur’s ass, and then Arthur was shaking and vibrating with tension, like every fiber of his body was being tightly wound, almost to breaking point.

“God, Tick, please…” 

Words vanished from his mind and even breathing seemed like an effort too far. Tick was deep, so deep, fucking him at an angle that was making his thighs twitch and his cock jerk in Tick’s grip, and all Arthur could do was pant and gasp down desperate breaths until his body seized up and he watched himself come in starkly white spurts over Tick’s hand, felt himself clench up around Tick’s cock, felt Tick pulsing inside him a split-second before Tick said, “Arthur…” with that stunned look he always got in his eyes, and fell forward to crush Arthur in a post-orgasmic hug.

Arthur was going to be in pain pretty soon, he knew, once the fog lifted a little from his mind and he could string thoughts together again. His body wasn’t elastic or nigh-invulnerable, and he was still being stretched and filled beyond what his limits had been, muscles still thrumming with electricity. But there was also no way on earth he was going to tell Tick to move. Tick, who had wrapped him up like a particularly heavy weighted blanket, cheek pressed to Arthur’s chest so that his hair tickled Arthur’s chin and an antenna prodded his nose. 

“Tick?” On the other hand, at some point he was going to snap a ligament.

Tick made sleepy, contented noises. Noises he never made while actually sleeping. 

“Hey.” Arthur rubbed at his back, then pressed him a little more insistently. “Hey big guy.”

“Mm, how are you feeling, chum?” 

He’d expected to feel a loss when Tick slipped out of him, but the euphoria in his veins made up for any emptiness. “I’m feeling really good, Tick,” Arthur said, and was laughing before he got all the words out. He really, really did feel good. So good he could perceive a whole new level of goodness that had been out of reach before.

Tick’s grin mirrored his own. “Me too.” Then he briskly slapped his palms together, making Arthur jump. “Okay fella, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Arthur had been hoping more toward cuddling and falling asleep together, but Tick was probably right. No need to wake up with sheets fused to certain sensitive areas… and it was kind of nice to look across the hallway, watching Tick wander around the kitchen naked, humming snatches of whatever pop song was absolutely everywhere this month…

His attention was diverted by Tick’s book, which had fallen down beside the bed. Arthur grabbed for it and squinted at it without his glasses. Rainbows. Nude bodies. He was still flicking through it while Tick wiped him down with a washcloth and neatly rearranged the blankets.

“You really want to do some of this stuff to me, Tick?” Arthur said, trying to sound very, very casual.

“ _With_ you, chum.”

The phone rang. Tick scooped the receiver off the kitchen wall before Arthur could tell him not to. “Hello? Joan! Yes, we’re home and dry, Arthur was very brave.”

Arthur groaned and burrowed down into the blankets. Tick usually made him feel like the mature, confident adult in the relationship… outside of these phone calls, where both Tick and his mom seemed to be under the impression that “the kids” were pre-teen scamps liable to forget to eat and breathe.

The illustrations in the book didn’t seem like anything new - in fact they looked incredibly old-fashioned in a world where Arthur could probably pull up detailed videos showing every position under the sun, including those that should only be attempted if you were both professional gymnasts. What was new, was that Tick would care long and deeply enough about something to formulate and execute a plan that involved several people and locations, without forgetting what he was doing or getting distracted by a puppy. Tick didn’t mind not knowing who or what he was. But he cared about being with Arthur, and being the best partner Arthur could ever have, in every way.

Arthur glanced over at where Tick was still chatting on the phone, sounding far too cheerful and collected. For a moment he wondered what he could do for Tick in return, what gift Tick would possibly want. But his eyes met Tick’s and he knew that was a question that had already been answered every single day since they’d first met. 

Arthur left the book spread open against his pillow, and slung his legs out of bed, feet hitting the thin carpeted floor. The moment he stepped out into the hallway was the same moment Tick finished up his call with uncharacteristic brevity, clicking the receiver back in place, and then he was slinging his arms around Tick’s neck, nothing but skin between them, and Tick was lifting him like he truly weighed nothing more than a gossamer-like moth. 

“I love you,” Arthur said into Tick’s mouth, all that euphoria flaring up again, sparking through his blood like fireworks. “I’m yours, Tick, you know that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do, chum. It’s destiny!”

Arthur closed his eyes and let Tick kiss him some more. He wasn’t sure what they were doing, if Tick was going to want to try for a more athletic round two or if his body would even let him, but he had his arms and legs wrapped around his boyfriend, his partner, a man he fully and completely deserved, and that was enough.

“It isn’t patrol time, is it?” he hazarded after a while, when it started to dawn on him that making out naked in the kitchen was a little self-indulgent, and also that probably they were past due for a crisis.

Tick drew in a breath, and the windows clattered with a renewed burst of rain and building wind. Even Tick wasn’t going to insist on patrol now.

“You ever built a pillow fort?” Arthur asked. 

He loved the way Tick’s eyes went wide, his antennae parting. “What kind of sleepy citadel is this?”

“The perfect place to wait out the storm. You think you can make some popcorn without setting anything on fire?”

Tick considered it. “I make no promises, but leave it to me, chum!”

They built a better pillow fort than Arthur had ever managed as a child and snuggled down among barricades that were certain to keep out weather and villains and everything else until morning. Tick read the book to him and never failed to ask for clarification on _certain_ terms (“Arthur, what’s a power bottom?”) at just the right time to make Arthur choke on his popcorn. 

And then, when it got too dark to read, Arthur climbed on top of Tick like he’d never been afraid of anything in this life, and rode Tick’s cock while Tick’s jaw went slack and his antennae went rigid.

He wasn’t setting the alarm clock tonight.


End file.
